


An Escort Home

by QueenofDuctTape



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 11:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16304384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofDuctTape/pseuds/QueenofDuctTape
Summary: Draco Malfoy walks Hermione Granger home. She has scones, is accused of murder, and then Malfoy walks her home again. It was a weird week.





	An Escort Home

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [DramioneFanfictionForumHalloween2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DramioneFanfictionForumHalloween2018) collection. 



> I live in the U.S. and have only ever played the U.S. version of Clue/Cluedo. I am not sure of all the differences so the game is referenced as "Clue" throughout even though it takes place in the U.K. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> An odd and eclectic group of ex-Hogwarts students each receive a mysterious, coloured parchment, with nothing but the name of a room and a weapon written on it. 
> 
> A week later, a mangled body is found on the grounds outside the Shrieking Shack. Investigators find a weapon in every room of the dilapidated house. And every weapon has a particular set of fingerprints..... 
> 
> (This looks like a job for Auror Curry.)

Hermione strode out of her office and pressed the button for the lift. It arrived almost immediately, which she attributed to her being one of the last people left in the Ministry that night. Unfortunately, despite the scarcity of people around, the lift was occupied, and with Hermione’s bad luck it was her least favorite Auror: Draco Malfoy.

 

Hermione knew that Malfoy wasn’t really a bad person anymore. She herself had testified so that he wouldn’t go to Azkaban. But just because she didn’t want him to go to prison didn’t mean that she wanted to see him or talk to him. She greeted him with a stiff nod.

 

Malfoy nodded back. “Granger,” he acknowledged her.

 

“Malfoy,” she responded. “Working late?” she asked, trying to be polite but her tone came across more as accusatory. She winced inwardly.

 

“Yes,” he said simply, and they rode in silence the remaining floors up to the Atrium.

 

Malfoy politely hung back to allow Hermione to exit the lift first when the doors opened and she headed towards the pedestrian exit to Muggle London, assuming he would break off to the Floos and that would be the end of their interaction. But to her surprise he caught up to walk beside her instead.

 

“Are you, er, walking home, Granger?” he asked, unable to mask a tone of surprise.

 

“Yes,” Hermione said.

 

“I shall escort you,” he said stiffly.

 

Hermione stopped walking abruptly and Malfoy had to turn around to talk to her.

 

“ _What?_ ” she asked incredulously.

 

Malfoy sighed. “I will escort you to your home,” he repeated. “It is dark, and you are a woman walking alone. It is the gentlemanly thing to do, and besides which, I am an Auror and it is my duty to protect the public, which includes single witches walking alone after dark.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione protested. “I certainly don’t need an escort home. I’m Hermione Granger!” As arguments went, this was not Hermione’s best. Malfoy certainly knew who she was, though it could be argued that he may have forgotten since despite publicly supporting the new regime, Hermione had been sure he would never go out of his way to act the gentleman towards a muggleborn.

 

Seeing that she was finished speaking, Malfoy raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the phone booth. “Shall we?” he asked.

 

“No!” Hermione said. “I will, but you are not coming with me!”

 

“Yes, I am,” Malfoy argued.

 

“Please, Malfoy, I am a perfectly capable witch. I do not need an Auror escort to get home!”

 

Malfoy scoffed at her. “Where’s your wand?” he asked her.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“If you’re a perfectly capable witch who does not need an escort, where is your wand?”

 

“It’s in my cloak pocket, of course,” Hermione said, shifting a pile of papers to her left hand to grab it. One of them drifted to the floor and she had to bend to pick it up before digging out her wand. “See?” she said, waving the wand in his face. She was so upset with the man that she didn’t even feel bad when her wand sent sparks very near his face.

 

Malfoy did not look impressed and didn’t even flinch when her wand sparked at him. Hermione fumed. “I think drawing your wand just took you a full thirty seconds,” he told her. “That is not adequate in any sort of defensive situation, as I am sure you are well aware. I will escort you home, Granger.” Having apparently decided the matter by himself, he turned away from her and walked to the phone booth. Fuming, Hermione followed him.

 

Neither of them spoke another word the entire walk to Hermione’s flat. Hermione, for her part, was so angry with Malfoy and then uncomfortably aware of sharing a very small space with him. She pressed herself against the corner of the booth, as far from him as possible, but she was still aware of his very tall, muscular, and male presence against her right arm. And he smelled _really_ good. Musky… was that sandalwood? She wasn’t sure and almost asked before she remembered who she was in the booth with. When the interminable ride ended and the door to the phone booth opened, she pretended her blush was due to righteous anger over his imperious escort and strode off down the street. Malfoy strolled next to her with his ridiculous long legs as though they were out for a leisurely walk, which only spurred Hermione to walk faster. They reached her flat in half the time it normally took her to walk home, and Hermione was quite winded by the time she stopped to unlock the door.

 

“I hope you’re not waiting for an invitation in,” she said acidly, and for a split second she almost thought Malfoy smiled in response. But his face soon resumed its usual neutral expression so quickly that she thought she must have imagined it.

 

“Have a good night, Granger,” he said pleasantly, which only served to make her feel bad about being so rude. Then he nodded politely at her and bent in way that Hermione could only describe as a _bow_ before he turned and left.

 

Hermione stared after him, flabbergasted. She was quite sure that no one had ever bowed to her in her life. In fact the only situation where someone might have was likely the ill-fated Dueling Club in her second year at Hogwarts, when she had bowed to her partner and Millicent Bulstrode had taken the opportunity to put her in an immediate headlock.

 

Shaking her head to dispel the unpleasant memories, she noticed with some surprise that Malfoy had not immediately Disapparated, nor was he heading back to the Ministry. Well, it was certainly not her fault and none of her business if Draco Malfoy got himself lost in Muggle London. But Hermione couldn’t help but wish he did end up lost. It would serve him right.

 

When she made it up to her flat, Hermione sighed in relief and kicked her shoes off by the door then went to the kitchen to dump her papers from work on the table. She was just thinking of pouring herself a nice glass of wine to relax with after the unusually stressful journey home when she noticed an owl waiting patiently by her window.

 

Hermione rushed to undo the latch to let it in. “Sorry,” she cooed as it alit on the perch just inside and stuck out its leg for her to remove the attached letter. Hermione opened the cupboard to fetch an owl treat for it, but it refused the treat and took off immediately after she had removed the envelope. Well, at least it hadn’t made a mess on her floor, as Pigwidgeon was prone to doing. She replaced the owl treat in the bowl in her cupboard and turned her attention to the letter.

 

Oddly, it was unmarked on the outside, not even addressed with her name. Suspicious, Hermione set it on the table and used her wand to open the envelope. A single piece of parchment was inside, bright red and seemingly empty. She performed a quick charm to check for any hexes or curses, but parchment glowed lightly gold, signalling that it was safe. Gingerly, she picked it up. On the opposite side, it read simply:

 

_Candlestick_

_The Library_

 

Hermione relaxed. She had played the Miss Scarlet piece in a game of Clue the previous weekend. Perhaps someone was sending and invitation for a rematch?

 

She took out her wand again. “ _Revelio_ ,” she said clearly, pointing her wand at the parchment. But nothing appeared. Shrugging to herself, Hermione tucked the parchment away in her purse. She would have to ask Neville about it tomorrow. She decided to forget about the parchment for now and turned her attention to finally preparing her glass of wine.

 

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Hermione stopped by Hogwarts to give some paperwork from the Ministry to Professor McGonagall. After a short conversation with the Headmistress, she headed downstairs to have tea with Neville and his wife, Hannah Longbottom née Abbott.

 

The Longbottoms had a nice suite of rooms down on the first floor of the castle, away from the bustle of the Great Hall and situated in a corner where their windows looked out across the grounds. Hermione knew Neville had chosen this suite for the same reason that Professor Sprout had before him: the view from the sitting room looked straight down at the greenhouses so that he could always supervise his plants.

 

“I hope you like the scones, Hermione,” Hannah was saying.

 

“They’re as wonderful as always, Hannah,” Hermione told her. The two former classmates hadn’t gotten to know each other until after Neville started bringing Hannah around to events and things, but the two girls found they had a lot in common and became fast friends. Hannah was just as passionate as Hermione, but focused her efforts to help people on the sick and injured as a Healer at St. Mungo’s.  

 

“You’re not just saying that?” asked Hannah, drawing Hermione’s attention back to the conversation. “I made them myself, so if they taste a little off that’s why.”

 

“At least they’re not burned,” Neville said, taking a bite of his own scone.

 

“Neville!” Hermione scolded him.

 

“No, he’s right. I brought about five batches back burned from the kitchens before I started to get the timing down,” Hannah explained. “And poor Neville faithfully ate every last one of them.” She smiled at her husband and Neville looked back at her, a grin on his own face. Hermione busied herself with her plate, almost feeling embarrassed for intruding on them before she remembered that she was an invited guest. Then Hannah looked back at Hermione and the moment was over.

 

“The scones are delicious,” Hermione assured her. “I would never have guessed that they weren’t straight from the Hogwarts kitchens.” Hannah grinned back at her.

 

“Excellent,” she said. “I was thinking of trying more desserts and we could have some people over for a game night or something.”

 

“That’s a great idea!” said Hermione, then she turned to address Neville. “Actually I was just thinking about that game of Clue we had last weekend. I thought I got an invite in the mail for another game or something, but I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

 

“An invite to another game? Is that what that was?”

 

“Oh, good you did get one!”

 

“I think so, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Here, I’ll show you.” Neville got up to rummage through a pile of mail, finally emerging with a bright forest green piece of parchment. He handed it to Hermione. It was exactly the same size as hers, with just as little information. The card read:

 

_Lead Pipe_

_Conservatory_

 

“It has to be from someone we played Clue with,” Hermione said. “Mine was red and I played Miss Scarlet. You were Mr. Green too, right?”

 

“Yeah,” said Neville. “Does yours say anything about a day or time?”

 

Hermione shook her head. “I only guessed it was an invitation, it could be something else. We’ll have to contact the others and see.”

 

“Next time you guys play, I hope I’m not on duty at the hospital. It sounded like so much fun!” Hannah said.

 

“Yes, you’ll have to join us next time, Hannah!” Hermione told her enthusiastically. “We should invite all the old DA people and take up a few tables some place. It would be nice to see everyone again and just relax and hang out.”

 

“And don’t forget the reformed Slytherins,” Neville pointed out.

 

Hermione made a face. “Pansy and Blaise weren’t too bad but I’m afraid they might want to bring Malfoy.” She knew she was whining but she couldn’t help it.

 

Neville laughed. “He’s not so bad these days either,” he pointed out. “Doesn’t he work with Harry and Ron? Sometimes they bring him when we meet at the Three Broomsticks or the Leaky Cauldron.”

 

Hermione sighed. “Everyone says he’s not so bad, but he was so pushy when I saw him yesterday.” She relayed the whole debacle of the journey back home yesterday, but she must have done a poor job explaining because Neville and Hannah would not stop laughing.

 

“It wasn’t funny!” she told them. “He was so… so… so pushy!” She harrumphed at her friends, who were still giggling.

 

“I don’t know, Hermione, it sounds pretty funny to me,” Neville told her.

 

“Yeah, it sounds like he was just being nice, and then he had to fight you over it!” Hannah collapsed into giggles again.

 

“Do you verbally attack everyone who is polite to you?” asked Neville.

 

Hermione didn’t hear anything reasonable from either of them for the rest of her time there. In fact, Hannah was still giggling a little when she led Hermione to the door.

 

“I’m sorry if our teasing offended you, Hermione,” Hannah apologized as Hermione gathered her things to go. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

“It’s okay,” said Hermione. “I guess you guys are a little right. If it had been anyone else I would have accepted the offer as the nice gesture that it was. There’s just something about Malfoy that puts me on edge.”

 

Hannah hummed. “Is it that he just exudes sexiness everywhere he goes?” she asked.

 

“Hannah!” Hermione exclaimed. “You’re married.”

 

Hannah smiled at her. “I know. But I can still recognize when other men are sexy. And Draco Malfoy has those liquid silver eyes, and he’s got that reformed bad boy thing going for him too.”

 

“And he smells really good,” Hermione agreed before she realized what she had said. Her face flamed as she practically fled the Longbottoms’ suite, Hannah’s full-bodied laughter echoing down the hall behind her.

 

* * *

 

Monday morning found Draco in the Auror Office, standing with Ron Weasley at Harry Potter’s cubicle. If he had stopped to think about it, he would have been amused by how differently his life turned out than he ever would have expected. At the moment, though, he had other things on his mind.

 

“Guess who I ran into on my way out of the office on Friday,” he told the two Gryffindors.

 

“Hermione,” Harry said instantly, the grin on his face revealing that he had heard something about the encounter already.

 

Draco groaned. “I don’t even want to know what she had to say about it,” he said.

 

Harry shrugged. “I heard it secondhand from Neville, so I don’t know exactly what happened. He said Hermione was upset, but he was laughing so hard he could hardly get a word out about it so it can’t have been that bad, mate.”

 

“It was terrible,” Draco moaned.

 

“What happened?” asked Ron. “Hermione is weird about you, though, no offense, Malfoy.”

 

Draco shrugged. “We were in the same lift on the way out of the Ministry and when I realized she was walking home and offered to walk her there, since it was late and she was alone.”

 

“Aha!” exclaimed Ron. “How did you offer?”

 

“What do you mean?” Draco asked. “I just said like, ‘I will escort you home,’ or something like that.”

 

Harry and Ron both guffawed.

 

“You are so formal!” Ron laughed.

 

“Yeah,” said Harry, “and you made the classic mistake of dealing with Hermione.”

 

“What’s that?” asked Draco. In his experience, the main mistake he made in dealing with Hermione Granger was being Draco Malfoy. She avoided him when she could, and when she couldn’t she restricted herself to frowns and glares when he was around, Friday afternoon being the prime example.

 

“You told her what you were doing with her,” Ron explained. “With Hermione you always, always, always ask.”

 

“Or better yet, you subtly suggest and let her think it was her idea,” Harry added.

 

Ron gave his friend a pitying look. “Don’t do that,” he advised Draco. “Hermione can see right through that and she only lets him get away with it because she knows he wants to think he’s subtle.”

 

Draco laughed.

 

“I can be subtle!” Harry protested. Ron and Draco shared a look, and Ron noticed the head of the Auror Office, Robards, was walking towards them.

 

“Oh, good, you’re here,” he said as he approached. “I was looking for you, Weasley, Malfoy.” He handed Ron a thin file, the size of which suggested to the three that the case was very fresh. “A muggle was found dead this morning outside the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. I sent the techs on ahead to mark the evidence and cordone off the crime scene, but I need you two there as soon as possible.”

 

“We’ll leave right now, sir,” said Ron. Draco nodded.

 

“Good.” Robards left as soon as he had arrived.

 

Ron and Draco headed toward their own cubicles to grab their cloaks.

 

“See you, Potter,” said Draco as he left and soon Harry was left alone again with his own work.

 

* * *

 

“Auror Weasley! Auror Weasley!” Civilians on the other side of a magical barrier shouted for Ron as soon as he and Draco appeared outside the Shrieking Shack.

 

Despite having worked as an Auror for several years and appearing in the Daily Prophet frequently with the Potters and a multitude of Weasleys, civilians at a crime scene were never interested in talking to Draco.

 

“I’ll head in and scope it out,” Draco said smugly while Ron grimaced.

 

“I just got here!” he complained. “I don’t know what they think I can tell them before I’ve even seen the crime scene.”

 

“We wouldn’t want the Prophet to report that the Aurors refused to comment again,” Draco told him.

 

Ron glowered at him and left to go give his generic “no comment” remarks to the reporters standing at the barrier.

 

Draco continued up to the front door. “Shack” seemed like an inadequate description of the building. It was really quite large. If it had been better kept up Draco might have described it as a manor even. Technicians swarmed around the front door, and as Draco approached he realized that was where the body was. He flagged one of the techs, Williams, over.

 

“Give me the rundown?” he asked her.

 

“Of course, Auror Malfoy,” she responded. When Draco had first started working with the Aurors a lot of techs were reluctant to give him information, as were several of his fellow Aurors, but over the years he had gained the trust of most of them. Some people, unfortunately, were stuck in the past. Draco tried not to dwell on them. He mentally shook off the thought and turned his attention back to Williams who was filling him in.

 

“Victim is a muggle, about 40 years old. The muggle identification he carried identifies him as a Mr. Robert Boddy –”

 

Draco couldn’t help but interrupt. “Our body’s name is Mr. Boddy?” he asked incredulously.

 

She nodded, flashing him a grin. “Cause of death is uncertain.” Her expression sobered. “The body shows evidence of strangulation, bludgeoning with multiple heavy objects, stabbing, and a gunshot wound.”

 

Ron had come up while the tech was explaining the causes of death. “Well, he’s certainly dead now,” he commented. “Why would anyone want to kill him six times?”

 

“It seems so unnecessary,” added Draco.

 

“Well, it’s what we techs call overkill,” WIlliams told them.

 

“No, we techs call it psychotic!” someone working on documenting the wounds chimed in.

 

“Is there anything inside the house?” Draco asked, returning to the subject at hand.

 

The tech nodded. “That’s where it gets really weird, if you don’t mind me saying, sir.” Draco raised an eyebrow in response. “Inside, in six different rooms, there are six different weapons. A gun, a knife, a noose, and three heavy objects that could have been the bludgeoning instruments.”

 

Draco thanked Williams for her help and the technician returned to her work.

 

“Let’s head inside,” Ron suggested and the pair entered into the main hall.

 

* * *

 

In the sixth room on the main floor, Draco and Ron found a bloody candlestick. Only the six rooms with the six potential weapons had anything in them. All of the weapons were lying precisely in the center of the rooms, but none of the dust had been disturbed until the first technicians on the scene had entered.

 

“This is so bizarre,” Ron said.

 

Draco nodded. “Did you learn anything at that Muggle Techniques seminar last week?” he asked the other wizard.

 

“Oh, yeah!” said Ron. “I don’t know if it will turn anything up, but they taught us a spell to get fingerprints like those muggle cops do. A lot of wizards don’t know about fingerprints, so they might not have tried to wipe them off.”

 

Ron walked farther into the room and pointed his wand at the candlestick. “ _Identitatem digitus revelare persigno_!” he said.

 

The candlestick glowed gold for almost thirty seconds, and then the gold formed text that hovered in the air above the weapon.

 

_Hermione Jean Granger._

 

Ron and Draco stared at the name, and then looked at each other. Both men were pale with uncertain expressions.

 

* * *

 

**Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

**Auror Office**

**Case File: #22083602**

**Interview of Hermione Granger**

**12 October 2008, 10:43 am**

**Conducted by: D. Malfoy**

 

MALFOY: Granger, do you know a muggle man by the name of Robert Boddy?

 

GRANGER: No. Malfoy, what is this?

 

MALFOY: When was the last time you were at the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade?

 

GRANGER: During the Battle of Hogwarts, I think. That was a long time ago Malfoy, and I was never accused of any war crimes —

 

MALFOY: Granger —

 

GRANGER: And the only thing I did there was watch someone die, which was awful, but it is not a crime!

 

MALFOY: Granger! This is not about the War, this is about a murder that happened last night, where your fingerprints were found at the scene of the crime!

 

GRANGER: What?

 

MALFOY: Are you sure you didn’t know Robert Boddy? We don’t have any information on this man. Anything you can tell us will be helpful.

 

GRANGER: Um, no. No, I don’t think I’ve met him.

 

_[MALFOY slid picture of the victim’s face across the table to GRANGER]_

 

MALFOY: Have you ever seen this man before?

 

GRANGER: I don’t think so, no. Sorry.

 

MALFOY: Okay. If you think of any time you might have seen him or met him, please ring the bell to summon an Auror.

 

**End of Interview.**

 

* * *

 

**Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

**Auror Office**

**Case File: #22083602**

**Interview of Neville Longbottom**

**12 October 2008, 10:55 am**

**Conducted by: D. Malfoy**

 

MALFOY: Mr. Longbottom, do you know a muggle man by the name of Robert Boddy?

 

LONGBOTTOM: Ah, no, Draco. What’s happened?

 

MALFOY: When was the last time you were at the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade?

 

LONGBOTTOM: I guess sixth year? I mean, but just from that fence out front. I never tried to get in or anything.

 

MALFOY: No one is accusing you of breaking and entering, Neville. A man was found dead outside the Shrieking Shack this morning.

 

_[LONGBOTTOM fell out of his chair]_

 

LONGBOTTOM: Sorry, I’m a little accident-prone.

 

MALFOY: No worries. Have you ever seen this man?

 

_[MALFOY slid picture of the victim’s face across the table to LONGBOTTOM]_

 

LONGBOTTOM: No, I don’t think so.

 

MALFOY: Okay, thanks, Neville. I hope we can get you out of here soon, but in the meantime please ring the bell for an Auror if you can think of anything that might help.

 

**End of Interview.**

 

* * *

 

**Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

**Auror Office**

**Case File: #22083602**

**Interview of Pansy Parkinson**

**12 October 2008, 11:04 am**

**Conducted by: R. Weasley**

 

WEASLEY: Parkinson — Is it still Parkinson? I thought you had gotten married.

 

PARKINSON: I was married, but he died.

 

WEASLEY: Oh, er, sorry. Do you miss him?

 

PARKINSON: Well, it’s a matter of life after death. Now that he’s dead, I have a life.

 

WEASLEY: Um, do you know a muggle named Robert Boddy?

 

_[WEASLEY shoved victim’s picture across the table to PARKINSON]_

 

PARKINSON: Is this him?

 

WEASLEY: Yes. Did you know him?

 

PARKINSON: No.

 

WEASLEY: You’ve never seen him?

 

PARKINSON: No.

 

WEASLEY: When were you last at the Shrieking Shack?

 

PARKINSON: I went to see that horrid place once in third year, on the first Hogsmeade trip.

 

WEASLEY: You haven’t been there since third year?

 

PARKINSON: What is this, Weasley, twenty questions?

 

WEASLEY: Never mind. If you think of anything, press the button.

 

**End of Interview.**

 

* * *

 

Hermione didn’t like being “interviewed” as the Aurors liked to call interrogation, but at least when an Auror was in her holding cell the silencing charms were removed so that the Auror (and by extension, Hermione) could hear what was going on in the hall. Her first clue that someone was coming in was the removal of the silencing charms and the sudden influx of sound. Then the door opened, and Ron came in.

 

“Ron!” Hermione started crying at the sight of a friendly face. She rushed towards him for a hug, but ran into an invisible wall. She fell down heavily on the floor.

 

Ron winced. “Sorry, Hermione. There’s a barrier in all the cells to protect Aurors from violent suspects.

 

Hermione stood and nodded. She sniffed, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “Of course, I understand.” She sat in the chair on her side of the interrogation table. Ron conjured a box of tissues for her and she gave him a smile in thanks, but it felt like it came out as more of a grimace.

 

“I wish I was coming to release you, Hermione,” Ron started, “but this case is so weird. We have no new leads. I just came to tell you that Robards is bringing someone new in, like a secret Auror who is assigned to the Department of Mysteries normally.”

 

The other Auror guarding the door cleared his throat. Ron glanced back at him.

 

“Sorry I guess I’m not supposed to tell you that. But I promise you’re gonna be okay, Hermione. Draco and I are working hard to figure this out, and we know you had nothing to do with it.”

 

Hermione snorted.

 

“I know you don’t get along with him, Hermione, but you have to know that he is just as upset about this as I am.”

 

“I don’t know that he gets upset about anything, Ron. But I trust you, and I know you trust him. And I guess I know he wouldn’t believe I did anything like this, but the man arrested me!” Hermione would have continued, but her own shrill voice was interrupted by shouting from the hall.

 

Hermione and Ron both turned to stare out the doorway, but all they could see was the Auror guarding the door. That Auror’s attention was caught by the commotion down the hall though.

 

“You CAN’T be serious!” Speak of the devil, Hermione thought, recognizing the voice as Malfoy’s own. But he was angrier than she had ever heard him.

 

There was a muffled response that Hermione couldn’t really hear because the speaker was talking at a more regular volume.

 

Malfoy shouted back at him. “You are NOT accusing HERMIONE GRANGER of murder. She’s Hermione Granger! She never wishes harm on anyone, not even former Death Eaters like me! She’s saved the wizarding world a million times over, and now when we should be worshipping the ground she walks on, but instead the most amazing woman in the world is LOCKED in a JAIL CELL, and YOU have the gall to say she might be some criminal mastermind?”

 

Ron turned back to look at Hermione. Hermione could feel that her mouth had dropped open at some point during Malfoy’s speech, but she couldn’t muster the brainpower to close it.

 

Malfoy’s voice had gotten clearer as he went on, clearly approaching Hermione’s cell. Now she heard footsteps approach the final few steps and she could see Malfoy in the doorway. In addition to sounding angrier than she had ever heard him, she could see that he also looked more emotional than she had ever seen him. There was no trace of the usual Slytherin mask guarding his expression, and as his gaze swept into the room she met his eyes. She was finally able to close her mouth and swallow, even though she felt like she was drowning in his eyes. _Liquid silver,_ Hannah had called them. Hermione might correct that to _molten_ silver. His irises seemed to almost swirl as they shared a look more intense than anything Hermione had shared with any previous boyfriends.

 

Why hadn’t he ever said anything to her? Now she finally knew, and it might be too late. Or maybe he had tried to walk her home and she had bitten his head off and ruined everything. Hermione could feel herself crying again but she couldn’t look away from Malfoy until another man walked into the cell and blocked her view.

 

“Ah, Auror Weasley,” the man said in a cultured voice. He didn’t respond to Malfoy’s outburst at all. “I will be taking over Ms. Granger’s interview. If you would be so kind as to accompany Auror Malfoy back up to the Auror Office?” It was phrased as a question, but was clearly an order.

 

Ron threw Hermione a worried look, but stood and left the room. The Auror guarding the door closed it behind him.

 

* * *

 

**Department of Magical Law Enforcement**

**Auror Office**

**Case File: #22083602**

**Interview of Hermione Granger**

**12 October 2008, 5:32 pm**

**Conducted by: W. Curry**

 

CURRY: Ms. Granger, what have you been told about this current case?

 

GRANGER: Nothing, just that someone has been murdered and my fingerprints were found at the scene.

 

CURRY: Your prints were found on two potential murder weapons.

 

GRANGER: I did not know that.

 

CURRY: Your fingerprints were found on a candlestick and a lead pipe. Also at the scene were a rope, a knife, a wrench, and a revolver.

 

GRANGER: Is this some kind of joke?

 

CURRY: I do not joke, Ms. Granger. Tell me, have you played the game Clue recently?

 

GRANGER: Last weekend. Is this some kind of Halloween prank? Because it’s not very funny.

 

CURRY: It is not a prank, Ms. Granger. However, I believe it may be some kind of curse. Tell me, who were you playing Clue with last weekend?

 

GRANGER: Neville Longbottom, Cho Chang, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and, um, Ernie Macmillan.

 

CURRY: As I thought. Those are the other suspects being held, but I believe we have enough evidence to bring in a team of curse breakers. We will need to confiscate the game you played. How did the board end up in your possession?

 

GRANGER: It’s not mine! It was on a community shelf at a restaurant. The new one in Diagon Alley, Kneazle’s Nest.

 

CURRY: Odd name for a restaurant, don’t you think?

 

GRANGER: What?

 

**End of Interview.**

 

* * *

 

After Auror Curry left her cell, Hermione was alone in the unnatural silence for what felt like ages, but it was surely shorter than the hours before Ron came in and she overheard that fateful conversation. Then the silencing charms came down again, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The Auror who had been guarding the door came in and took down the barrier that had prevented her from hugging Ron earlier. She wished that it was Ron now taking it down instead of this stranger but she was so amazed at being suddenly released that she followed the Auror in a daze up to the Auror Office.

 

Ron wasn’t there, and Malfoy was conspicuously absent as well, but she was engulfed in a hug from Harry in the middle of signing some release forms.

 

“Merlin, Hermione!” Harry exclaimed. “I am so sorry! I can’t believe any of this! Bill says it was just a cursed game?”

 

“Bill was here?” asked Hermione, letting go of Harry and continuing to sign her name on the indicated pages.

 

“Yeah, once that Auror Curry figured it out they called in a bunch of curse breakers. I can’t believe no one recognized the weapons, or the name Mr. Boddy, or the weird rooms in the Shrieking Shack, or anything!”

 

“It sounds like you need more muggleborns in the Aurors,” Hermione said. “God, if someone had just been on the team from the beginning this whole mess could have been taken care of hours ago. I thought it was weird when Malfoy asked me about a Mr. Boddy, but I didn’t connect the dots since I didn’t have any other information.”

 

Harry nodded. “I’ll talk to Robards about making sure every case team has some minimum number or fraction of muggleborns.”

 

“We should think about something like that Ministry-wide. I know we have stats on diversity by Department, but I think this has shown us that we can do better.”

 

Harry grinned at her. “Am I sensing another Hermione Granger crusade?” he teased. “You must be feeling better then.”

 

Hermione smiled back. “I’m tired and sort of residual-stressed from the day, but I’m okay. Really, I was just in a mildly unpleasant room for a few hours. At least it wasn’t trying to kill me like Jumanji or anything.”

 

Harry shuddered. “I always hated that movie, and now I think I hate the game Clue, too.”

 

Hermione signed the last paper with a flourish. “Yeah, I don’t know if I can bring myself to play again. Certainly not anytime soon. I think I’m going to head home now, Harry.”

 

Harry gave her one last hug. “Give Ginny a call if you want company at home. I’ll be stuck here with paperwork for a while yet, but I can stop by later, yeah?”

 

Hermione nodded. “That would be great. See you later, Harry.”

 

Waiting for the lift, Hermione had a striking sense of deja vu when the doors opened once again to reveal Draco Malfoy. For a second he looked stunned, and then schooled his expression as she stepped in beside him.

 

For a while they rode the lift in silence. Then, just as Hermione was about to gather her courage and say something, Malfoy interrupted her thoughts. “I am so sorry about all of this, Granger.”

 

Hermione shrugged one shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“Maybe not, but I am sorry for my role in it. I know I make you uncomfortable.”

 

A vague noise of protest escaped Hermione’s throat, but she had no idea how to actually respond. She had never been comfortable around Malfoy, but now her discomfort had nothing to do with childhood dislike and everything to do with his uncharacteristic outburst outside her cell.

 

Sounding more awkward than ever, Malfoy continued, “It seems to be late in the evening again, Granger. May I… may I offer you an escort home?”

 

“That would be… nice. Thank you, Malfoy.”

 

The lift chimed and the doors opened to reveal the Atrium. Again, Malfoy hung back to allow Hermione to exit first. They walked in silence towards the phone booth. Malfoy’s speech from earlier kept running through her head. She tried to figure out what exactly she wanted to ask him and how to phrase it.

 

Finally, just as he was following her into the little booth again, and his intoxicating scent flooded her senses, instead of asking an intelligent question, she blurted, “The most amazing woman in the world?”

 

There was a beat of silence. Hermione ducked her head as she blushed. Then —

 

“The most amazing woman in the world,” Draco confirmed, and Hermione looked up into his silver eyes once again, the intense look from earlier back on his face.

 

Hermione didn’t know what else to say. Instead, she rose onto her toes and touched her lips to his.


End file.
